


You Don't Have To Be Perfect For Me

by sixlettrsodapop



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:50:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixlettrsodapop/pseuds/sixlettrsodapop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt - "Can you write a thing where Matt tries for things to be perfect with Isaac, but they keep going wrong?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Have To Be Perfect For Me

Matt is tired and not his normal, everyday ‘I battle with insomnia and internet addiction’ tiredness. This is ‘I spent the night fighting what I previously thought were mythical monsters’ tiredness and he slumps in his seat in English, head soon joining his notebook on his desk, and yawning. The teacher is droning on, something about Shakespeare because that seems to be the only thing they study in English, and he closes his eyes, letting English class drift away until something pokes him in the back sharply, to the right of his spine, and he cracks his eyes open again. The thing pokes him again and he hisses softly, something he’ll deny later if it gets brought up, and turns to glare over his shoulder at Erica’s wide grin.

“Hey lizard boy. Forget what’s after class today?”

Matt blinks slowly and pillows his head on his arms again, yawning as he does; the teacher’s still droning on and he attributes Erica’s loudness to his sleep deprivation.

“Pack meeting?”

Erica pokes him in the back again and he wiggles forward in his chair to escape the poking.

“No. You really don’t remember?”

The bell rings distantly and Matt scribbles the homework down, shoving his notebook and pen into his bag as he gets up.

“No, I really don’t remember.”

“Good luck then.” Erica pats his shoulder as she sweeps past, eyebrows tilted down and mouth in a pout as she looks at him before she leaves the classroom.

*

Matt’s drifting on the couch, remote limply in the arm dangling over the side when his phone vibrates. He ignores it, intent on finishing the episode of The Big Bang Theory before he takes a much needed nap, but it vibrates again. Then again in a phone call and it falls off the table, continuing to vibrate into the carpet. He stares at it and narrows his eyes, debating the importance of two texts and a phone call, but figures the pack can deal with whatever supernatural horror today has delivered to them and focuses back on the TV.

He blinks awake when he feels someone looming over him and sweeps out a hand, catching a shirt and pushing hard. The person doesn’t fall, comes forward and pins him into the cushions and pushes a groan from him.

“Isaac?”

Isaac growls, soft and deep in his throat and lets Matt go; there are small pinpricks from Isaac’s claws on his arms and he can feel them healing over as he wakes up and takes in Isaac’s body, muscles tense and his eyes drift up to his face, the fangs sticking out over his lower lip, and Matt swallows.

“You made me look really dumb today.”

“How?”

“Do you not remember?”

“Erica said that same thing earlier.”

“Laser tag? This afternoon?”

Isaac’s face shifts and his fangs retract and Matt takes in the disappointment, the anger, the sadness spread through his eyes and sighs, softly.

“I’m sorry, yeah. I remember now. I was just so tired from last night; it slipped my mind. Let me make it up to you?”

**

The first day of Spring break, Matt rolls out of bed at 9 AM and trails after his mom to the grocery store, clutching his travel mug of coffee close to his chest.

“Your dependence on coffee is starting to worry me,” she says, looking through the weekly deals and he doesn’t bother to give her an answer, sipping and looking around. “Why did you come anyway?”

“Picnic with Isaac today. We need sandwiches and stuff.”

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Not really. I missed our date yesterday and I have to make it up to him.”

She sighs and steers the cart into the store, letting him trail after her.

By 11:30, Matt is standing in his kitchen, sandwich stuff strewn across his counter and finished sandwiches stacked on a plate and neatly wrapped in plastic wrap. He tugs his phone out of his pocket, sends Isaac a text ( _plastic wrap was created by the devil. Still on for picnic @ 12?_ ), and starts piling food into a basket his mom had dropped on the table when they had got home from the store. She’d laughed at his glare and left him to his sandwich making, calling over her shoulder to clean up his mess before he left.

The doorbell rings and Matt looks around the edge of the doorway, watching as his mom opens the door and Isaac shakes his head, reminiscent of a dog. He steps around his mom into the hall and drips onto the wood, laughing at something his mom says before his gaze narrows on Matt and he smiles, wide and bright. He makes his way into the kitchen after excusing himself, setting the pan he’s carrying on the counter with a small thud, and crowds into Matt’s space, hands on Matt’s hips and smelling like rain and sugar and Isaac. He tilts his head down, nosing his Matt’s hair and breathing deeply; Matt can feel his smile in his hair and presses his nose into Isaac’s collarbone, even though his sense of smell is nothing close to Isaac’s and scenting doesn’t do much for him.

“It’s raining.”

“I can tell; you’re dripping on everything.”

Isaac laughs and drags his nose down behind Matt’s ear, kissing the edge of his jaw when he meets it and looking behind Matt at the basket sitting there.

“It’s fine; we can picnic in your room and play Xbox or cuddle.”

Matt sighs and nods, leaning forward to grab the pan Isaac brought, and peeking under the foil tucked over it. Isaac smacks his hand softly and grins at Matt’s pout, snatching the basket off the counter and bounding off up the stairs, whistling when Matt doesn’t follow as quickly as he wants him too.

**

Isaac’s birthday falls on the Tuesday of Spring break and Matt’s house is the designated party spot (his parents left on their own vacation the day before.) The rest of the pack trails out after presents and Isaac’s lying on the floor of the living room, Xbox controller in his hands as Matt walks around him, picking up scraps of paper and plates.

“You’re being useless,” he says, nudging a foot into Isaac’s side as he passes and Isaac whines, pushing Matt’s foot away without looking away from the TV.

“It’s my birthday.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Matt steps over Isaac and yelps when Isaac smacks his thigh, turning to glare at Isaac’s grin.

“Don’t you smart mouth me. You didn’t even get me anything.”

Matt falls to his knees and pushes at Isaac’s shoulder until the other boy pauses his game and sets the controller on the table, opening his arms and Matt lies down next to him, tucking his nose against Isaac’s collarbone.

“I got you something. It just hasn’t come yet.”

Isaac tips his head and noses at the top of Matt’s head, letting out a short laugh when Matt tilts his head away.

“I know; I just like teasing you.”

**

Matt wakes up to the snap of his camera, sunlight filtering into his eyes and cold, Isaac missing from the bed when he flings his arm out to check.

“What are you doing?” mumbled into the pillow because he can’t be bothered to move his head; Isaac can hear him anyway.

“Being you.”

Matt rolls his head enough to see Isaac perched on his knees at the foot of the bed, smiling behind the camera as he snaps another picture of Matt who waves a hand in Isaac’s direction. Isaac crawls closer and falls down next to Matt, pressing their shoulders together and starting to click through the pictures he’s taken.

“Why didn’t you watch TV like a normal person?” he asks, turning on his side and pillowing his head on Isaac’s shoulder.

“Not a normal person,” he answers and Matt smiles when Isaac turns the camera around to take a picture of both of them. “And the TV’s broken.”

“How did you break the TV?”

“I did not break the TV.” He pauses, squinting at the picture he just took. “Your camera isn’t good at selfies.”

Matt rolls his eyes and rolls away, pushing out of the bed.

“Maybe it’s the person using the camera.” He starts towards the door out of the bedroom and pauses, looking at the boy still sprawled in the bed. “And TV’s don’t just break on their own, you know.”

Isaac grins and flips him off, snapping at picture of his glare and following him down the stairs, bumping their hips and shoulders together when it’s possible. Matt herds Isaac out of the house after breakfast, promising him dinner at 6 with a kiss, and closes the door after Isaac lopes off; it’s then Matt realizes Isaac took his camera with him, but he quashes down the fear that bubbles up his throat and assures himself that Isaac will be careful with it.

His heart still hammering, Matt darts up the stairs and showers quickly before turning the laptop on. He had planned for a day in bed, cuddling, movies, maybe making out and more; no mythical creatures barging in or alpha packs challenging Derek. There was a carefully written recipe for chicken noodle soup pinned on the fridge from his mom that he had planned to make while the movie played, but now it was either watch the movie on his laptop or find something else to do because his HDMI cord was broken (thank you for that Derek) and apparently, the TV was broken. He grabs his phone from the side table and scrolls through his texts until he finds his and Isaac’s conversation, reading through the messages before sending a new one.

_Do you mind watching the movie on my laptop?_

_Not as long as you feel me up._

Matt stares at the response and tries to come up with something to send back that isn’t along the lines of, “I’m not going to grab your dick in the middle of Harry Potter.” when his phone vibrates again.

_That was Erica. Your laptop’s fine if you feed me._

*

Matt puts the pie in the oven after they eat and Isaac wanders upstairs to put the movie on while he’s busy reading the back of the box. He puts the dishes in the dishwasher while he’s waiting for the oven to preheat and then puts the pie in, setting the timer and walking to his room to see Isaac sprawled across the bed, laptop on his stomach and movie already playing.

“Couldn’t wait for me?” He asks, crawling on the bed and lying down; Isaac grins and moves so they’re pressed together from hip to foot and pulls at Matt until his head is on Isaac’s shoulder, the laptop slides into his lap and Matt gives the smallest yawn.

“Never. You were taking too long.”

“Yeah, making you dessert.” He digs a finger into Isaac’s side and Isaac squeaks, retaliating by pinching Matt’s nose and Matt sneezes, groaning when Isaac laughs.

“So, what are we having for dessert?” Isaac asks after they calm down, his breath puffing over Matt’s forehead and a smile stretching his face.

“Pie so listen for the timer. Your ears are better than mine.” Isaac nods, his chin bumping into the top of Matt’s head and they turn their focus to the movie, Matt closing his eyes as Isaac mumbles the words along with it.

Matt wakes up alone and with the faint smell of smoke in his nose. There’s a brief moment when he thinks the house has caught fire and Isaac’s left him to burn, but he rolls from the bed and stumbles downstairs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. The smoke scent leads him to the kitchen where Isaac’s holding a baking tray in one hand, face creased in a frown. He looks up when Matt gets next to him and Matt nudges his head into Isaac’s shoulder, yawning.

“I forgot to listen.”

“I’ve kind of gotten used to it by now.”

Isaac slides the tray on the counter and turns, letting his hands fall to Matt’s hips and nudging his nose into Matt’s hair.

“What do you mean you’ve gotten used to it?”

“Every time I try to do something nice for you, it goes wrong.”

“But I like when it goes wrong. You know you don’t have to be perfect for me, right?”

Matt shrugs and turns to rest his head against Isaac’s chest, the steady beat of his heart soothing.

“Because I like you all scaly and not perfect more than I would if you were perfect, dumbass.”

“You just ruined a perfect moment by calling me a dumbass.”

“Then stop acting like one and I’ll stop calling you one and ruining moments.”


End file.
